


The Mightiest Monster!...The Mightiest Melodrama of Them All!

by emwebb17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: Between the two of them, it does seem odd that Dean is the Bridezilla.





	The Mightiest Monster!...The Mightiest Melodrama of Them All!

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a new work. I feel a little guilty about converting this one since it was originally written for Cockles Week 2015, but ah well. This is not beta-ed.
> 
> The title is the original tagline for Godzilla.

**One Month Until the Wedding**

 

“I had no idea you were such a sap.”

Dean paused as he was carrying dishes from the living room to the kitchen.  Castiel had cooked and Sam was a guest, so Dean had volunteered to do the dishes.  A decision he was regretting now as he saw that Castiel had used every single utensil, mixing bowl, and pot they owned except for that really expensive one Dean had bought him as a present but he didn’t like to use because it was “too shiny.”  Castiel and Sam were on the half-built deck hanging off the back of the townhouse Dean and Castiel had bought together three years ago.  The house had seen significant upgrades since then; the deck had remained woefully untouched.  Castiel was leaning back against the only section that had railing and looking up at the night sky with a small smile on his face.  He’d somehow moved himself out of the light from the housing unit and into moonlight.  He looked beautiful.  But then, he always did.

Sam continuing his thought snapped Dean out of his reverie.  “Well, that’s not true.  I knew you were a sap.  I just didn’t think the whole marriage thing was something that would get you all worked up.”

“To be honest I’ve kind of been obsessed with it since I was little.  My parents’ marriage was certainly not a positive example, and I think that’s why I was determined to have my own marriage so that I could do it right.  When I got older, I only saw marriage as a negative.  I’ve had friends who were in long term relationships just completely fall apart after getting married.  The church and the government has fought against me being able to marry the person I want and made the whole institution about exclusion rather than love.  So I mean, it makes no sense that I’m even more determined than ever to be married, but…”

Dean glanced at the two piles of dishes in his hands that were getting heavier and harder to hold with each passing second.  He really should take them into the kitchen, but…

“Even though Dean and I have been together for a decade, and living together for years, there’s something about being able to call him _my husband_ that just gives me this—this _joy_ that I’ve never experienced the like of before.”

Dean stared at Castiel as the man closed his eyes and let his smile linger on his lips.  The moment was ruined when Sam snorted.

“What a sap,” Sam teased.

Castiel just laughed and turned around to lean on the railing.  Dean took the opportunity to pass the open sliding glass door and into the kitchen without being seen.  After hearing such a beautiful confession, he should be elated, practically fucking floating.  Instead he felt like shit.  He set the dishes down in the sink with a clatter and roughly turned on the water and grabbed the sponge.  He used the washing to get out his anger.

And he was furious.  Furious with himself.  He had been such a shit to Castiel about the whole thing.  Castiel had been asking him to marry him since they were about six years old, but the proposals had turned serious after they’d finally started dating in their twenties.  After they’d moved in together, Castiel had told him he wasn’t really asking anymore and Dean had relented to having a wedding and making things “official.”  However, once they’d gotten engaged, he’d told Castiel there was no rush, and it was nearly two years later when Castiel just started planning the wedding without him.  He’d gone along with it, allowing Castiel to do all the work and make all the decisions.  If Castiel asked his opinion, he’d grunt a response or tell him to pick the “least girly one.”

He’d been a complete and total dick about the whole thing.  But this was their wedding.  They were getting married.  And even if he didn’t care about the ceremony, he understood when Castiel said that there was a certain thrill and delight about the prospect of calling the man he loved his husband.  And he did love him—he loved him so much it scared him sometimes when he thought about the possibility of losing him.  So, if he loved him so much, wasn’t the least he could do was let him have the dream wedding he’d been yearning for since they were children?

This wedding was important to Castiel, which meant it should be important to Dean.  No, not _should be_ , _is_ important.  His thoughts were occupied with trying to remember what Castiel had been up to the last several weeks, so he made for poor company the rest of the night.  Sam and Castiel must have noticed he was distracted because Sam left much earlier than he usually did when they all hung out together.  He may have also left sooner to go spend some time with—shit, was he dating Jess or Ruby right now?  He had no idea how the three of them remained friends with all the relationship shuffling they did.  The obnoxious Kansan in him was proud of his brother for gettin’ it from two hot girls though.

Later, after they were snuggled in bed together and the lights were out, Castiel tilted his head up from where it lay on Dean’s chest and kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Hey.”

“Hey what?” Dean asked, his fingers combing through Castiel’s hair.

“You okay?  You seemed a little out of it after dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  Dean kissed his forehead.  “I was just thinking about some things.”

Castiel gave him an amused smile.  “Well, don’t hurt yourself with all that thinking.”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean shot back, but he was smiling and Castiel wasn’t cowed for a moment.

Castiel’s arm tightened around Dean’s middle and he giggled as he threw a leg over Dean’s and wiggled against him.

“Stop that.  You’re the one who instated the ‘no sex on the first clean night of sheets’ rule.”

“I know.  But we put these sheets on yesterday.”

“No, we didn’t.  You made me do laundry while you were at the grocery store and I had to put them on and make up the bed before Sam came over even though he didn’t go upstairs, like I said he wouldn’t.”

“Look at the clock.”

Dean shuffled up to look over the wildness of Castiel’s hair at the clock on his nightstand.  It glowed a red 12:03 back at him.

“Well, son of a gun.  That _was_ yesterday.”

Castiel’s laugh turned into a yelp as Dean rolled them over and went right for the under the boxers cock grab.

~~~

Castiel woke to the smell of coffee wafting up the stairs.  He smiled and stretched out like a cat, enjoying the light soreness in his thighs and abs from his workout last night.  Who needed a gym when he could lie on his back and use his core muscles to fuck Dean about a foot off the bed?  Besides, at a gym he’d have to listen to a mix of boring songs on an iPod, but in his own bed he had a glorious symphony of Dean’s whines, moans, grunts, gasps, and screams to motivate him through his workout.

He could hear Dean’s voice now as a matter of fact, which meant he must be talking pretty loudly.  He wondered if he was yelling at the coffee machine or if a sound editor had called and asked him to redo a line over the phone.  The first time Castiel had walked in on Dean talking in a low, rough sexy voice about how he was going to decapitate some motherfucker, he hadn’t been sure if he’d been scared or turned on.

His fiancé worked as a voice actor primarily for video games and English dubs of anime, but sometimes he got roles in big budget films produced by Pixar or DreamWorks.  Most of the recording he did in a studio, but if they needed something changed or rerecorded last minute, it was easier to simply do it over the phone.  Of course that meant on occasion he had to listen to Dean say some truly bizarre things into their landline phone.

Dean also had pretty sporadic hours that it made it difficult to plan trips, or even time just to spend together, but he had given up his job as a background vocalist when they’d moved in together.  Going on tour around the country—and sometimes the world—had been an exciting, glamorous career, but the strain it put on their relationship hadn’t been worth it.  At least, that’s what Dean had said, and Castiel hoped every day that he had really meant it.  Sometimes Castiel wondered though.  Dean was so uninterested in their marriage that despite how much he knew they loved each other, he wondered if Dean resented him for trying to domesticate him.

Shaking off those negatives thoughts (because Dean wouldn’t have said yes if he didn’t really want to marry him), Castiel made his way downstairs and entered the kitchen.  Dean was sitting at the table with his back to him.  Castiel crossed the small space to get a mug from the cabinet and paused with his hand mid-air as he looked back at his fiancé.  He was frowning as he listened to somebody over the phone and the notebook Castiel had been using to organize the wedding plans was open in front of him.  Castiel crossed to stand next to him, confused as to how he even knew where to find the book let alone was bothering to look through it.  The notebook was open to the sheet protector that held the information for their caterer and the receipt for the down payment.

“Okay, I’m going to stop you there,” Dean said sharply.

Castiel flinched, worried for one moment that had been directed at him, but Dean continued to talk into the phone like he wasn’t even aware Castiel was in the room.

“When my fiancé spoke to you people two months ago, we were told that we could pick any three stations in addition to a sit down menu.  Then you reneged on that offer after we’d made a down payment saying there are certain combinations you can’t do.  So here’s the thing, either you give us a refund for breaking your contract, or you give my fiancé his damn kale and spinach salad bar.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up.  The fuuuuuuck…???

“No.  We are still having the Tex-Mex bar for cocktail hour and the ice cream sundae bar for after dinner.  During dinner we want the salad bar available in addition to the sit down menu.  That’s the third station we’ve ordered and paid for.  If you can do the pasta station and the pizza station during menu service, there’s absolutely no reason the salad bar would make it impossible.”

Castiel smiled with bemusement and returned to his mission to seek out coffee.  Dean always made it too weak, but Castiel appreciated the effort so he never complained.

“No, I actually don’t understand.  But let me tell you what I _do_ understand.  We paid for something you’re not following through on.  So, either you give us what we agreed on, or you’re giving me a full refund and I’m finding a new caterer.”

Castiel whipped around in alarm.  There was barely a month until their wedding.  They couldn’t possibly find a good enough caterer available the specific weekend they needed to make food for almost a hundred and fifty people on such short notice.  Then Dean smiled.

“Well, I’m glad that you understand me.  Yes, that’s exactly right.  The menu service offering steak, chicken, and a vegetarian option plus the Tex-Mex, ice cream sundae, and salad stations.  Fantastic.  You’ll be at the venue four hours before service begins for prep?  Great.  I’ll make sure the venue knows.  Have a pleasant day.”

Dean made a face as he hung up the phone.  Then he scribbled something on a piece paper and stuck it in the sleeve protector.  Castiel abandoned his half poured cup of coffee and walked over to Dean.  He pushed him and the chair back from the table so he had enough room to slide onto his lap.  Dean’s surprised greeting was cut off as Castiel licked his lips, and then tilted his head to slip his tongue into Dean’s mouth.  Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around him and he returned the kiss enthusiastically.  When they pulled back, Castiel used a hand to smooth out the unruly spikes in Dean’s hair.

“What was that for?” Dean asked.

“You got me kale,” Castiel smiled.

Dean laughed softly.  “Anything for you, babe.”

“I appreciate it.  Truly.  It was impressive.  I should sic you on the flower people.”

Dean scowled.  “What did _they_ do?”

Castiel chuckled.  “Nothing I can’t live without.”

“Tell me,” Dean insisted.

“Well, I wanted an uncommonly used flower, but they ‘suggested’ I stick to more traditional fare.”  Castiel let out a pretend sigh of dismay.  “No catchfly flowers me.”

“There’s a flower called catchfly?”

“Mm-hmm.  It doesn’t matter though.  We’re having an indoor wedding.  Like you wanted,” he teased.

Castiel tilted his head as Dean’s face shuttered and he looked almost—angry?  He wanted to see Dean’s smile again, so he tapped his nose.

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“Seeing you all tough and manly and in control—it’s almost as much of a turn on as seeing you desperate and begging and under _my_ control.”

Dean shifted slightly and Castiel bit his lip as he could feel Dean’s cock stirring to life under his ass.

“You’re a cocktease, Cas.”

“ _I_ am?” Castiel asked, only slightly exaggerating his shock.

“Yeah, you.”  Dean rolled his hips up and Castiel hummed as he felt Dean’s cock grow harder and easily push the thin material of his boxer shorts between his cheeks.  “Confuse my poor little cock with thinking it wants to fuck deep inside you when it _knows_ it’s so much better the other way around.”

Castiel laughed.  “Sounds like the poor thing is just confused.  It’s a phase.  I’m sure it’ll grow out of it,” he said as he rocked his body on top of Dean.

“Nn.  Or maybe it just hasn’t met the right ass yet,” Dean managed with a shaky voice as his hands forced Castiel down, down, around…

“Don’t you dare even joke about that, Dean Winchester.  Don’t you…ah, ah…”  Castiel exhaled harshly as Dean’s clothed cocked pulled against his balls.

Castiel put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and used his increased leverage to rut in earnest on Dean’s lap.  They stopped their banter and the kitchen filled with their labored breathing and whispered moans of encouragement.

“Oh, God…yes, yes…Dean, fuck yes I’msoclose.”

Dean increased his speed and leaned forward enough to close his teeth around Castiel’s neck to steady himself.  Castiel started jerking in his arms, aching to just rub a little bit more, a little bit harder, and little bit…

Castiel groaned long and loud and swiveled his hips wildly on Dean’s lap as his orgasm pulsed and throbbed between his legs.  Dean bit down harder and Castiel winced, but didn’t even feel the pain as he felt his fiancé come and continue to rut against him.  They let themselves come down slowly, still working their hips until the motion naturally slowed and stopped.  Castiel opened his eyes and smiled as he saw the glassy look in Dean’s green eyes that shone bright in the morning sunshine.

“I knew you liked kale, Cas, but _damn_.”

Castiel laughed and kissed him.  “Now that you’ve done your white knighting for the day, how about we get cleaned up and go catch a movie or something?  Unless you’ve got a meeting today?”

“Nope all yours.”

“Mm-hmm.  All mine.”

 

**Two Weeks Before the Wedding**

 

Castiel entered his mother’s apartment using his own set of keys and called out to let her know he had arrived for their dinner date.  He rounded the corner of the foyer and pulled up short when he saw the large collection of people in his mother’s retro styled living room.  Both his and Dean’s parents and siblings were there, as well as a few other relatives and friends who were in the wedding party.  They all looked pretty put out with crossed arms and small, tense frowns on their faces.  He looked around the room feeling squirmy dread in his stomach.

“Uh, hey guys.”

“Castiel,” his brother started, “you have got to do something about Dean.”

“What?”

“I love my son dearly,” Mary said, “but that boy is off his rocker right now.”

Castiel blinked at them.  He’d been living with Dean for three years now and he hadn’t really noticed a difference.  Other than the fact that he seemed to always have the wedding planning notebook tucked under his arm, everything was the same as usual.

“I don’t understand.  What’s this about?”

“It’s about that fact your fiancé has turned into a Bridezilla,” Castiel’s father said.

“Hey,” Dean’s father sent the man a warning look.

“Sorry, sorry.  A Groom-zilla.  Whatever.”

Castiel laughed.  An actual full laugh of amusement.  “Are you joking?  He doesn’t even care about the wedding.  He’s barely involved.”

The withering and contradictory looks on the faces of all twelve people present told him another story.  Castiel let out a small disbelieving laugh.

“I mean come on, guys.  It’s Dean.  What has he done?”

“He fired the florist,” Anna said.  “The one I recommended who did my wedding?  I’m sure she’s pissed now and the only reason he gave was ‘if you can’t fulfill our order we’ll find someone who can.’”

“He’s paying almost double to change the venue last minute,” John huffed.  “The country club wasn’t happy—especially after I asked for a favor to kick out a different wedding for that weekend!”

“He’s making us buy tuxes,” Gabriel said.  “ _Buy_ , not rent.  And we have to all go to alterations for them.”

“And he changed the color of our dresses so we had to cancel our orders and try to get what he wants last minute from the dress shop,” Charlie griped.

“Also, the people who are—in theory—making your cake,” Sam said, “threatened to quit.  He totally went off on them yesterday after we had met for lunch.  They let him storm out and then told me I should tell the bride they’d quit if they ever got yelled at like that again.”

Castiel could feel his jaw hanging open.  That—did not sound like Dean at all.  Not the Dean he knew anyway.

“I-I haven’t seen any of this.  I didn’t even know he was trying to change anything.”

“ _Everything_ ,” his mother clarified.

“I-I’m sorry.  I’ll speak with him.  I don’t know what’s gotten into him.  Two weeks ago he couldn’t have cared less about any of this stuff.”

“Look,” Michael said, “we all love Dean.  And you too.  We love you both and want you to have the wedding that you want.  But, he’s going about it the wrong way.”

“I understand.  I’ll take care of it.  I promise.”

 

When Castiel got home he was still very confused and actually wondering if his friends and family had been trying to pull a joke on him or something.  Dean ranting about the color of grooms-maid dresses just didn’t sound like him at all.  He found the man in their living room, staring at a large poster board propped on an easel that depicted their seating chart for the reception.  Castiel hadn’t even known they had a large scale format of the chart.  He hadn’t known they owned an easel.  He set his bag down by the door and crossed to stand beside Dean’s chair as he looked contemplatively at the board with a furrowed brow.  Castiel gently combed his fingers through Dean’s hair.  Dean didn’t react beyond a distracted grunt.

“Babe?”

“What?”

“You okay?”

“I would be if I could figure out how to seat our two families without the Bible Belt conservatives and liberal New Englanders wanting to murder each other all night.”

“Let ‘em fight,” Castiel advised with a shrug.  “It’ll make for a good story.”

“I don’t want your day ruined,” Dean said darkly.

“Hey,” Castiel said gently, walking in front of Dean and blocking his view of the board.  Dean looked up and me this eyes, the tension on his face easing.  “It’s _our_ day.  It can’t be ruined so long as you’re there and I’m there and we get married.”

“But—”

“Seriously, Dean.  Bring on the hurricanes and the packs of wild dogs—if we’re together I’ll be satisfied.”  He gave him a cheesy grin and wink.  “So long as you satisfy me,” he said with a nudge to Dean’s leg.

Dean did manage to crack a smile at that.  He raised a hand and Castiel knew to lean down so that he could cup his cheek and kiss him.  This Dean seemed like the one he knew; there was nothing crazy or unusual about this guy.

“Let’s go to bed,” Castiel murmured against his lips.

Dean gave him one more smooch, and then a peck, and then he pulled back.  “I’ll be right there.  I just need to figure out where to put the Mason-Dixon Line.”

Castiel masked his disappointment with a small laugh.  “Okay.  Just don’t keep me waiting.”

Castiel kissed his forehead and wandered upstairs.  He dawdled in the bathroom, he folded the socks and underwear that had been sitting in the laundry basket for two days, and then he read almost two chapters of his book.  When he finally went to sleep, he was still alone in bed.

 

**Three Days before the Wedding**

 

“Castiel!”

Castiel jumped and scratched a long red line through a student’s short answer essay on the symbolism used in Shelley’s “To the Moon.”  He made a face and tried to figure out a good way to turn it into something positive.  Her answer hadn’t been great, but it hadn’t been that bad either.

“Castiel, look at me!” Sam demanded this time.

Castiel looked up from the pile of papers on his desk and saw Sam closing in on him.  He was technically his fiancé’s little brother, but after working together at the same high school for several years they had become friends in their own right.

“What’s the matter now?” Castiel asked, tone uninterested.

People—his father, Dean’s mother, their friends, businesses, _everyone_ —had been telling him for two weeks now how unreasonable and demanding Dean was being.  He didn’t experience much of it himself as this all seemed to take place during school hours.  When they were alone together, he just seemed really into the planning, but not crazy about it.  He was starting to think that people were exaggerating and just thought Dean had entered Groom-zilla mode because it was such a departure from his usually laidback personality.

“You can’t possibly think that Dean is just being ‘thorough’ anymore.  He—”

“Yes, I know, he changed the color of the cummerbunds and ties.  But he’s right, classic black is just…classier.  I mean, there’s no way the tux rental place is out of black.”

“Yeah, but remember that we had to buy these tuxes.  Including the blue cummerbunds and bowties.”

“Can’t you exchange them?”

“Maybe.  But three days before the wedding?  And you know what?  That’s not even the worst of it.  A week ago he went to the venue and asked them to move a hill.  A hill.  He asked them to bulldoze a fucking hill so your view would be better.”

Castiel put an elbow on the desk and leaned cheek on his hand.  “And?  I’m sure they said no.  No harm in asking.”

Sam pursed his lips and looked at him like he was Benedict Arnold.

“Okay.  He just fired the bakery that’s making your wedding cake.”

Castiel sat up straight.  “He did _what_?!”

Now Sam looked smug.  “Now do you believe that’s he totally lost it?  You can’t just let him run wild like this.  You won’t have a wedding at all if no one will provide their services.”

“Shit,” Castiel said softly and began packing up his papers.  “When did you hear about the cake?  I just talked to him about it last night and it was a go!”

“He texted me that he was going to be late to his own bachelor’s party because he has to hire a new bakery.”

Castiel zipped his bag closed and looked up at Sam.

“What is going on, Sam?”

He shrugged helplessly.  “If anybody would know I thought it’d be you.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Castiel said.  “Just—go have fun at the party and I’ll get him there on time.”

“Are you going to make it?  Or are you going to be cleaning up his mess?”

Castiel gave a shake of his head.  “We’ll see.”

Castiel was already texting Dean as he walked out of his classroom: _Where r u?  Now_.

Dean replied with the name of a bakery and Castiel didn’t need to map it.  It was the first bakery they had gone to because of its reputation but had decided not to use because it was too expensive.  It took about twenty minutes to get there, but Castiel needn’t have worried that Dean would be gone by the time he arrived.  He and two shop owners looked very well entrenched on their sides of the counter.

“Dean,” Castiel called out to the man who was barely recognizable as his fiancé.  The two shop owners cast pleading eyes to him.  He hoped he could be their salvation.  Dean’s expression went from hard and daunting to happy and smiling in the turn of his head.

“Hey, babe.”

“Don’t ‘hey babe’ me.”

Dean’s smile faltered the two shop owners discreetly backed away.  If he had to guess, this wasn’t their first Bride-zilla rodeo.

“What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?  Sam told me you fired the bakery that is making our wedding cake.  The wedding cake we need for the _wedding_ in _three days_.”

“Ours isn’t all that big or elaborate; they’re perfectly capable of making a cake in three days.”

“Not when we have other orders to fill!” one of the shop owners called out.

Dean shot them a look.  “I’m willing to pay you a lot of money to make it happen.  I bet that would make it possible.”

Castiel tugged on Dean’s arm to get his attention.  “Hey, how much money?  We decided not to go with them in the first place because it was too expensive already.  How much are you spending on this wedding?”

“Not that much.  You were way under budget.  There was room for me to upgrade a few things.”

“You did that with the venue.  The venue pretty much pushed us over budget.”

“It was a conservative budget.  We’re fine.”  He turned a glare on the shop owners.  “I just need these two to understand that—”

“Hey,” Castiel grabbed Dean’s jaw and turned his head to force him to look at him.  “Why don’t you start with making _me_ understand?  Why are you here asking for a last minute, overpriced cake?”

There was a snort of offense from the other side of the counter.

“Because.  _This_ is the cake you wanted.  They’re the only ones that make the pistachio cake and they can actually get buttercream frosting to look almost as smooth as fondant.  That’s what you wanted: a cake that people would enjoy eating rather than one that just looks pretty.”

“I’m aware of that, Dean, but we determined it was too expensive.  So, why are you here now offering them what I can only assume is even more money for the same cake?”

“Because it’s what you wanted!” Dean said exasperatedly.

Castiel’s mouth fell open and he stepped back.  “You’re blaming this on me?”

“What? No—”

“I have to get home.  I have papers to grade.  You just go to your fucking bachelor’s party.”

Castiel turned on his heel and walked out the door.

~~~

Dean watched, horrified, as his fiancé stormed out of the bakery looking like he was one broken straw away from calling off the wedding.

“Shit,” Dean cursed under his breath.  Castiel had totally misunderstood him.  He ran his hands over his face and then back through his hair.  How had he made such a mess of this?  Everything he’d done had been to make Castiel happy, and now he’d fucked it up.  And on top of that he was supposed to go to their bachelor’s party.  _Their_ bachelor’s party.  That obviously wasn’t happening.

“So…”

Dean looked at the shop keepers.

“Are you sure you still need a wedding cake?”

Dean glared at them.  The older of the two stepped forward.

“He needs it now more than ever.  I’ll make this cake for you.  At the originally stated price.  It will be ready by Saturday.”

The younger shop keeper protested, but the older one shushed her.

“But you better do your part and fix it.  I don’t want to make a cake for a called-off wedding.”

Dean swallowed and nodded.  “Thank you.”

“Thank me when you see the cake.  Of course…I’ll need the payment in full up front.  Today.”

“Of course,” Dean sighed and pulled out his wallet.

When Dean left the bakery, he still had five other places on his list: the venue, the harpist, the caterer, the florist, and the courthouse.  He wanted to do last minute double checks that everything was in order and set to go, and he wanted to get their marriage license early in case something happened and he couldn’t get in on Friday.  Of course what he really wanted to go to Castiel and explain the misunderstanding, but he had to make sure everything was in place first.  If everything fell apart the day of the wedding, it would have made his efforts and hurting Castiel pointless.

Around eight o’clock he texted Sam that he wasn’t going to make it, but that the guys should still have a party anyway.  Sam had called him, but he’d ignored the call.  Then he got a single text from him, “Dick,” and nothing else for the rest of the night.

Dean didn’t get home until after ten o’clock.  The venue was an hour’s drive away and he’d gotten there later than he’d anticipated due to traffic.  When he entered the townhouse, it felt very still and quiet.  His heart stuttered over its next beat as he wondered if Castiel had decided to go spend the night at his mother’s house.  Then he walked into the kitchen and saw the plastic wrapped plate sitting on the stovetop.  Castiel had made chicken Alfredo with a side of roasted asparagus: one of Dean’s favorite meals.  He nuked the plate for thirty seconds and then sat down at the table to eat quietly by himself.  He could hear Castiel moving around upstairs.  Hopefully he wasn’t too angry to let Dean explain himself.

When he was done eating, he washed his dishes and then wiped down the table and counter.  He was stalling.  He shouldn’t be stalling.  He should be eager to go upstairs and explain that Castiel had it wrong—that he didn’t blame him for anything.  He should have run out after him at the bakery.  That was probably why he was too chicken shit to face him now: he’d let him go.

He climbed the stairs slowly and walked down the hallway to their bedroom like he was the protagonist in a horror film.  He slowly pushed open the door to their bedroom and saw Castiel on their bed—knitting.  He exhaled softly and entered the room.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Castiel responded, not looking up.

“What are you making?”

Castiel held up his project and it looked like the web a spider jacked up on crack might make.  Dean smiled and met Castiel’s eyes.  He smiled back, but it was small and forced.

“You should get ready for bed,” Castiel said.  “You have to be at the studio in the morning and I have to be at class, so…”

Dean nodded and began to undress.  He went into the bathroom and took care of his ablutions before returning to their bedroom.  He usually slept in boxers or nothing at all, but tonight he pulled on a T-shirt as well, feeling a little awkward about getting into bed with Castiel—who had already turned out the lamp on his nightstand and turned on his side so that his back was to Dean.

Dean went over the various ways he thought about starting his apology as he climbed into bed.  He sat against a propped up pillow and fidgeted.  He supposed direct was always the best course with Castiel.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said.  “I didn’t mean what I said the way it sounded.”  He grimaced.  That was almost worse than the explanation that had gotten him into this mess.

“I understand,” Castiel said without turning over.  “We’re both stressed.”

“Yeah…two days.  Now.  Two days until the wedding.”

Dean tried to make it sound like a happy thing, and smiled at Castiel’s back.  He didn’t get a response.  Sighing, Dean adjusted himself so he could lay down and reached out to turn off the lamp.  He put his back to Castiel, guessing the man wasn’t interested in spooning, and closed his eyes under the pain of failure.  Less than twenty seconds passed before Castiel’s voice came out of the dark: soft, small, and broken.

“Do you even want to marry me?”

Dean’s eyes snapped open.  He sat up and turned over.  Then he reached back to turn on his lamp quickly.  He stared at Castiel’s hunched shoulders.

“What?  Cas!  Yes, of course!  Cas, goddamnit look at me!”

Castiel turned over and sat up.  His eyes were red and puffy and Dean realized that Castiel must have been crying for hours.  He reached out and grabbed one of his hands, bringing it close to his face so that he could nuzzle it and kiss it.

“Fuck, Cas, yes, yes, I want to marry you.  More than anything in this fucking world I want to marry you and be with you forever.  How could you doubt that?”

“You don’t resent me for pestering you about it?  Forcing you into it?  I know you weren’t all that interested in it before.  And we both know your parents—your father in particular—aren’t exactly thrilled about—”

“ _Castiel_.”  Dean looked at him with hard, implacable eyes.  “You’re not forcing me into anything.  I want this too.  You misunderstood what happened at the bakery.”

“Did I?  Because it looked like you were going crazy.  Like everyone has said you’ve been lately.  That you’ve been out of control and bossy and demanding because you’ve been trying to change things to be the way _I_ want them.  That you felt _obligated_ to—”

“ _Obligated_?  Oh, Cas, love,” Dean kissed his hand again.  “You have it so wrong.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I just—finally realized how much this wedding meant to you.”

“See?” Castiel asked attempting to pull away.  “You think that—”

Dean shuffled closer and pulled Castiel into his side, shushing him gently.

“I overheard you and Sam talking on the deck about a month ago.  At the time, I didn’t care about the wedding.  Marrying you is something I want, but the whole ceremony part—I just didn’t think it mattered that much.  But when I heard you telling Sam how important it was to you and how excited you were for it, I realized I’d been a colossal dick by not helping you.  Or least giving you my opinion when you asked for it.  I didn’t get it then.  But I do now.  I understand that this is a really big deal because it’s important to both of us.  And then I wanted everything to be perfect.  I needed it to be perfect for you.”

“Dean,” Castiel said softly, turning his head so they could look at each other.  He leaned forward and placed a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips.  He pulled back and smiled at him.  “You colossal dope.”

“W-what?”

“Babe, I was talking about the _marriage_.  Our marriage.  Being married.  You being my husband and me being your husband.  That’s what makes me excited and happy and joyful.  The wedding…it’s just a ceremony.  It didn’t have to be a big, lavish, perfect affair.  Why do you think I picked my second and third choice for everything because it was cheaper?  Because having more money saved for using as a down payment on a house where we’ll raise our children is much more important than one single day.  A wedding is just a day.  Our marriage will be for a lifetime.”

“Oh.”  Dean could feel himself blushing with embarrassment.  He felt like an idiot.  Not just for what he’d done to Castiel, but for all the torture he’d inflicted on his friends, family, and the poor business owners who’d had to deal with him.

“But hey,” Castiel said, taking Dean’s face in his hands and kissing the corner of his mouth.  “I get kale with my burrito.”

Dean laughed softly, still feeling like a jackass.  Castiel moved the kissed the other corner of his mouth.

“And I get to say my vows overlooking the gorgeous valley where we had our first date.”

“I don’t think a cub scout trip counts as a date, Cas.”

Dean had to close his eye as Castiel kissed him there.

“Shh.  My cake will be elegant and match the color of your eyes.”  He kissed the other eye.  “Though possibly lopsided since it is being made on such short notice.”

Dean huffed softly and Castiel kissed the tip of his nose.

“And I have catchfly flowers with clover sprigs which I know is really fucking bizarre for any occasion let alone a wedding, but it means you’re mine,” he finished around a smile and kissed Dean full on the lips.  “I’ve caught you at last,” he whispered and then deepened the kiss.  Dean chuckled and pulled back just enough to ask, “Is that what those mean together?”

Castiel shrugged a shoulder.  “It’s my interpretation.”

They kissed again, arms circling each other.  Dean pulled back and nuzzled Castiel’s nose with his.

“Always been yours, you know.  Always.  Always…”

“Shh,” Castiel shushed him again and kissed him deeply.  He leaned forward and Dean willingly went down onto the mattress, moaning soft and needy as he felt Castiel’s weight settle on top of him.  From there the fire burned as an ember, underneath the longing to simply hold and touch each other.  Reverent fingertips traipsed along warm, smooth skin; their chests moved as one in shared breath; their lips kept them joined until they were both swollen and numb and dizzy with the touch, taste, scent, and feel of each other.

It was only when Castiel raised his head to draw his first decent breath in neither knew how long that they both felt the amazing, sparking drag of their erections against each other.  Hungry noises escaped them both and the next kiss was hard and wild, inviting teeth to join in the dance.  Castiel’s hands pushed Dean’s shirt up, and then they broke away with anger and offense at the article of clothing for getting in their way as it was pulled over Dean’s head.  They took the opportunity to shimmy out of their boxers and toss them aside.  Now naked, they fitted back together, more worked up than ever to be skin to skin.  Their hands grasped and pulled at each other, their legs tangled and tied them together.

Castiel slid his hands up Dean’s arms, gasping for air as his fingers slid through warm perspiration.  He found Dean’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress above Dean’s head.  Then he leaned down and sucked his lower lip into his mouth.  He suckled on it and then grasped it with his teeth so he could pant for breath.  Dean heard himself whine softly and watched with lust-glazed eyes as Castiel opened his clear, blue focused eyes.  Letting go of Dean he sat up on his lap, straddling him.

“Don’t move your arms.  Don’t move at all.”

Then he slid down Dean’s body and got between his legs, roughly shoving his thighs apart and breathing in the heady scent of Dean’s sex.  He tapped the side of his hip and Dean knew to raise his ass off the bed.  Castiel fitted one of their thick foam pillows under him and then slid down a little farther, hooked Dean’s legs over his shoulders, and buried his face in the apex of his thighs.

Dean let out a soft cry as Castiel took his balls in his mouth, but then the man moved on, kissing over his perineum and down to his goal.  His hands spread Dean’s ass cheeks wide and then his hot, flat tongue laved over his hole.  Dean jerked, but refrained from moving otherwise.  He wrapped his finger around the underside of the headboard to keep them in place.  Dean spread his legs as wide as he possible could and Castiel move in closer.  He kissed the pucker of his entrance, and then licked it repeatedly until it fluttered open.  Castiel pressed impossibly closer, kissing the ring again, tonguing inside it, and tilting his head when needed to get a better angle.  Dean raised his head, straining with the effort and felt his cock blurt out a large bead of precome as he watched Castiel practically make out with his ass.

Dean groaned with pleasure and frustration and let his head fall back on the mattress.  He gripped the headboard even tighter and it protested with a wooden crack and groan.  Castiel slid his hands under Dean’s ass, lifted him up slightly, and delved in deeper.

“Jesus—Jesus—Cas, God, help…Fuck, Cas.  I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m com—oh, fuuuuuuuck, you asshole!”

That last was in response to Castiel’s grinning face as he looked at him over his body and kept his hand firmly clamped around the base of his dick having successfully staved off his orgasm.

“Not yet.  You’re coming on my dick,” Castiel said.

He ducked back down and continued to eat Dean out, occasionally giving his cock a few firm pulls, but always returning the tight pressure to the base.  Dean wasn’t able to stay still.  He managed to keep his hands above his head by hanging onto the headboard, but the rest of him was a roiling, writhing mess of ecstasy and need.  At one point he was aware that Castiel had started inserting fingers into him, but he was only aware that they’d worked all the way up to four when he raised his head to look at Castiel and saw the man pumping his whole arm back and forth.  It was then that he could feel the stretch of four fingers breaching him and molesting his prostate on every thrust.

Castiel’s free hand was smearing a copious amount of precome over his reddened cockhead and engorged shaft.  Dean looked at his own neglected dick, drooling precome into a long, sticky string from the head to his stomach.  He looked back down when Castiel’s fingers disappeared.  The man lined himself up at Dean’s entrance, lightly brushing the head against Dean’s swollen, clenching hole.

Even through the thick haze of lust and the raunchy manner of their coupling, Dean was struck by how much he loved Castiel.  And then Castiel pushed in and Dean forgot his own name.  He was stretched plenty so Castiel slid right in.  He gave Dean no time to adjust and immediately began to thrust into him again and again.  Dean’s fingers tightened around the headboard even more, making his fingers ache with the pain.  Then he felt Castiel hands at his wrists.  He released the headboard and laced his fingers with Castiel’s instead.  Castiel drove his hands into the mattress and used the leverage to fuck Dean to within an inch of his life.  He knew he must have come at some point, but the pleasure had enveloped him so completely that he couldn’t pinpoint a before, during, and after it had happened.

He was aware of Castiel’s orgasm though.  The man shoved deep into his body and stilled.  His seed pulsed into him with each throb of Castiel’s cock, warming him from the inside.  Neither moved for a long minute as they caught their breath and tried to remember who and where they were.  Dean flexed his fingers around Castiel’s, and Castiel returned the gesture.  Then he pulled out gently and flopped beside Dean.  They swallowed around their thirst as they looked up at the ceiling.  Dean felt Castiel’s hand questing on the bed beside his thigh, so he used all the strength left his body to move his arm down so that they could join hands.  He must have fallen asleep shortly after that because the next thing he remembered was waking up curled around the most important person in his life the day before their wedding.

 

**The Day of the Wedding**

 

Castiel stood just beyond the archway where the justice of the peace would stand when he performed the ceremony.  The hill dipped gently down in front of him and then descended steeply into a wide green valley with a thin silver snake of a river shimmering through it.  The temperature was a balmy seventy-six and the sun was shining brightly.  There were clouds to the west, but they were large, white, fluffy things that added to the picturesque view.  The small catchfly and clover bouquets were attached to the aisle chairs, and a catchfly and clover boutonniere waited for him back in the dressing room for after he put on his tux.  The caterers were on time, the reception hall was beautiful in crisp white and shades of green and pale reddish purple to match the flowers.  The harpist was tuning up just inside the wide open doors of the country mansion veranda, the melodies floating on the soft breeze.  The cake had turned out exquisite—except for one tiny imperfection in the back where Dean had swiped a taste of the icing along the bottom tier.

Everything was perfect.  Nothing had gone wrong.  They had made it and neither his family nor Dean’s nor any of their friends had murdered Dean in their efforts to get here.  Today he was going to marry the man of his dreams at the wedding of his dreams and tonight—well, there probably wouldn’t be enough sleep involved to get to any dreaming.  Castiel grinned as he contemplated what he might make Dean do in front of that huge floor to ceiling window in their penthouse honeymoon suite.

 

The thunder rumbled menacingly again and the crowd glanced nervously at the sky.  Castiel darted his eyes over to the justice of the peace and gave him a nod to keep going.  About thirty minutes before the start of the ceremony, the temperature had dropped by ten degrees.  By the time Castiel and Dean were walking down the aisle together, the sky had darkened to an ominous slate grey.  As Dean slid the wedding band onto Castiel’s finger, the first drop of rain plopped on Castiel’s shoulder.  The crowd was anxious and some had even edged out of their chairs.  The harpist had long since ducked for cover to keep her instrument from getting ruined.  Castiel quickly repeated the vows the justice of the peace rattled out rapidly and slipped his ring onto Dean’s finger.  Lightning flashed bright in the sky followed by a loud crack.  Many in the audience yelped and some started up and ran inside.

“By the power vested in me by the state of—”

Lightning cracked again at the same time and the skies opened up.  Everyone started yelling and running toward the mansion.  Employees tried to gather up chairs, but many were abandoned and the archway blew over in a sudden gust of wind.  Everyone made it inside in less than a minute, but most everyone was soaked to the bone.  There were loud murmurings and mutterings and some laughter as everyone crowded into the reception space and tried to ring the water out of their clothing.  The staff closed the doors behind the last person, shutting out the storm, but the noise of it raging outside drowned out all but the closest voices.

Castiel felt someone tug his wrist and turned to the see the justice of the peace pulling him toward the stage where the DJ was set up.  He had a hold of Dean’s hand, so he had to go with him.  Once they were on stage, the justice of the peace took the microphone from the DJ.  He turned it on and the squealing feedback quieted everyone.

“Sorry about that.  But may I have everyone’s attention?”

Everyone faced the stage and Castiel turned to face Dean with a rueful smile.  Dean still looked a little shell-shocked.

“I now pronounce you husbands!” the justice of the peace said into the microphone, picking up where he left off.

The audience cheered and clapped.

“You may seal the marriage with a kiss.”

Dean grinned and took Castiel’s face in both his hands.  He pulled him close and kissed him, although both were smiling too hard to make it a real kiss.  The cheering got louder and a few catcalls sounded in the room.  They pulled apart and Castiel was smiling so hard his face hurt.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, for the very first time—”

A sudden burst of lightning and thunder accompanied all the lights snapping out.  People screamed in alarm and everyone held still for what felt like endless seconds.  Then the emergency lights flickered on, bathing everyone in an orange glow.  The storm raged on outside, not caring about the party that was supposed to be going on inside.

It took a while to get everyone sorted and into seats (the seating chart was forgotten).  The staff for the venue told them that the generator had been knocked out as well and they had zero power to run anything.  The caterers announced that the steaks and chicken hadn’t even been cooked yet, but the salad bar could be put out and the ice cream could be eaten before it melted.  Dean also managed to convince them to put out the Tex-Mex bar even though there was no meat for it.  Their guests managed to make do with kale and guacamole and ice cream and cake.  The venue couldn’t even offer anyone but water and the red wine that had already been uncorked to aerate since the lock on the liquor vault was electronic.

At one point, Castiel’s father had called everyone’s attention from their literal grazing of whatever food they could find and ordered Dean and Castiel onto the square of dance space in front of the DJ stand.  He stood on the stage and sang Van Morrison’s “Have I Told You Lately.”  Castiel kind of danced to it with Dean, hiding his flushed face against his husband’s shoulder when his mother joined his father.  She didn’t exactly have what one would call a, well, “singing voice.”

After their first dance was over and the available food was picked clean, Castiel took pity on the guests and told them they could call it a night.  The storm had abated somewhat, at least enough for it to be safe to drive home, and nobody really tried too hard to contradict him.  In less than ten minutes the hall cleared out and Castiel and Dean sat down in a couple of chairs, starving and disbelieving, but happy.  Five minutes later the lights turned on.  Castiel couldn’t help but laugh and Dean just looked annoyed and testy.

“Excuse me, Mr. Novak?”

Castiel looked over as the head caterer approached them from the kitchen doors.

“We have electricity again so we can cook the food, but I see that your guests are…gone.”

“Yeah, they are,” Castiel chuckled.

“What should we do with the food?  Do you want to…take it home?”

“No, no.  Do you guys have partnerships with local homeless shelters?”

“Yes, there is one that we donate the food that would otherwise be thrown away.”

“I’d appreciate it if you would donate our food to them.”

“Of course.”

“Except,” Dean said, “two steaks.  You think there’s any chance somebody back there could cook us up a couple of steaks before you pack up and get out of dodge?”

“Of course.  I’ll prepare them myself.  We did have a batch of mashed potatoes prepared before the power went out.  They should still be in good shape.  Would you like—”

“Yes,” they said together.

“Coming right up.”

Twenty minutes later Dean and Castiel were feasting on their wedding dinner and drinking warm champagne that a staff member had rescued from the now open liquor vault.  Castiel opened his mouth and let Dean feed him a tiny broccoli crown.  He sucked the butter and salt off Dean’s finger and then crunched into the perfectly steamed vegetable.  Dean watched him chew and licked some mashed potatoes off his fork.

“I think I’m ready to head to our honeymoon suite now.”

Castiel smiled.  “I agree.”

They had booked the penthouse suite in the luxury resort just up the road from the venue for the first night of their honeymoon.  In anticipation of not leaving the reception until very late at night, they’d hadn’t wanted to drive an hour back to the city before having to get up bright early for their flight to Bora Bora.  They checked in half past five.

After divesting themselves of their wrinkly, stiff clothes, they showered and put on fluffy white robes and snuggled on the couch with the lights out in front of the large window that normally would overlook the same valley that they had been (mostly) married in front of.  Now all they could see was grey darkness and the occasional tree limb lit up by lingering lightning.  The rain was still pretty heavy and made a steady, soothing rhythm against the windows.  Castiel leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder and wiggled his fingers in Dean’s grasp; he knew to turn his hand so they could lace fingers.

“I hope our flight won’t get canceled for tomorrow,” Dean murmured, his lips moving against Castiel’s hair.

“Won’t matter,” Castiel replied.  “I have my husband.”

Dean heaved a heavy sigh.

“What is it?”

“I still feel bad that the wedding was such a disaster.”

“Eh.  It’ll make a good story.”

“When?” Dean asked dryly.

“Five years maybe.”

“I’ll still be grumbling about the wasted money in five years.”

“Okay, ten years then.”

“Yeah.  It’ll be funny in ten years.”

“So, we’ll have to stay married for at least that long to get the pay off.”

Dean chuckled.  “Yeah, at least that long.”

Castiel turned his head and grinned up at him.  Dean leaned down to kiss him.  They remained on the couch for a while, making out like they used to do as teenagers when they “totally weren’t dating; it’s just a friends with benefits sort of thing.”  The belts on the robes loosened and hands began to wander.  Castiel sucked in a delighted gasp when Dean’s thumb grazed his nipple.

“Maybe we should head into the bedroom,” Castiel suggested around kisses.

“Good idea.”

Dean stood up and walked in front of the window.  He turned back to look at Castiel and then let a sly smile slide up the side of his face as he let the robe fall off his shoulders and slither to the floor.  Castiel sat transfixed at the image Dean presented—his strong, lithe body silhouetted against the window, lightning casting dark and beautiful shadows over him.

“Do you like what you see, husband?” Dean asked with an arrogant jut of his chin, but the slightest bit of uncertainty in his voice betrayed him.

In answer, Castiel stood up, shrugged out of his robe, and walked over to him.  Then he immediately sank to his knees.  Dean sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back against the window and Castiel swallowed him down to the root and held him in his mouth and throat.  Then he eased back and began bobbing his head quickly, pulling back completely to suck on the crown every fourth or fifth time.  Dean knotted both his hands in Castiel’s hair and guided his head while Castiel held his hips to keep him from having too much control.  Dean let out the most delicious sounding moans and whimpers above him, fueling his arousal and causing his erection to hang heavy and expectant between his legs.

“Mm, Cas, stop, babe.”

Castiel pulled off with one last sucking twist to the head and looked up.  Dean tugged on his hair and he got to his feet.  Lightning flashed bright in the window just as they kissed, but the thunder was an easy rolling grumble that started about three seconds later.

Castiel gasped when without warning Dean grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to face the window.  He pressed up behind him and slid his erection between his thighs.  He rocked up against Castiel, letting his cock sometimes glide up between his cheeks and sometimes along his perineum.  Castiel pressed his palms against the glass and pushed back against Dean.  He tilted his head back and panted through a grin as Dean latched onto an earlobe.

“Well,” Castiel said, struggling to catch his breath, “this is different for us.”

“We’re married now,” Dean said around sucking kisses to Castiel’s neck.  “We should share the husbandly duties.”

Castiel laughed.  “I totally agree.  Ohhh…oh, yes, touch me, Dean.”

Dean’s large hand wrapped around Castiel cock and pumped in time to Dean’s slow thrusts between Castiel’s thighs.  Castiel squirmed and pressed his hands against the glass so hard his fingertips turned white.  He wasn’t used to not being the one in control of their lovemaking.  It was kind of exhilarating.

“Oh, yes, oh yes, Dean, make me come…”

Dean tightened his grip and sped up his hand and his hips.  Within a few seconds they were both spilling all over the glass and Castiel’s thighs.

“Oh, oh yes.  Oh fuck yes.  Shit we’re going to have to clean the glass, oh God, but that was so worth it.”

Castiel let his head fall back on Dean’s shoulder.  Dean kissed his cheek and then guided him to the bedroom where they flopped boneless onto the king sized bed.  They lay together in the cool sheets, not touching other than where their hands were twined together.  Castiel raised his other hand over his face and moved the ring there with his thumb.

“Hm.  Mr. Castiel James Milton Novak Winchester.”  He looked over at Dean.  “Too much?”

Dean smiled sweetly, probably not even aware how sappy he looked right now.  He turned onto his side to put his face close to Castiel’s.

“Don’t care what other people call you.”  He nuzzled Castiel’s cheek with his nose.  “So long as I can call you mine.”


End file.
